Morning journal and courier. [volume] (New Haven [Conn.]) 1848-1894, 1887-08-30
A SURGEON,s LIFE.

Page from the Exper1e nee ofa Fam
GUS Physician and Surgeon.
From the Autobiography of the Late Dr. Gressl
I have always maintained that ii is i'm
possible for any man to be great surgeon
if he is destitute, even in a considerable
degree, of the finer feelings of our nature
have often lain awake for hours the night
before an important operation, and suffered
great mental distress for days after it was
over, until was certain that my patient
was out of danger. I do not think that it
is possible for a criminal to feel much worse
the night before his execution than a sur
geon when he knows that upon his skill
and attention must depend the fate of a
valuable citizen, husband father, mother,
or child. Surgery under such circumstances
is terrible taskmaster, feeding like vul-
ture upon mans yitals. 1t is surprising
that any surgeon in large practice should
ever attain to a respectable old age, go
great are the wear and tear of mind and
body.
The world has seen many sad picture.
I will draw one of the surgeon. It is mid
day; the sun is bright and beautiful: all
nature is redolent of joy; men and women
crowd the street, arrayed in their best,
and all, apparently, is peace and happiness
within and without In large house,
almost overhanging this street SO full of
| life and gayety, lies upon a couch an emac-
lated figure, once one of the sweetest and
loveliest of her sex, confding and affec-
| tionate wife, and the adored mother of
| numerous children, the subject of a fright
| full disease of one of her limbs, or, it may
| be, of her jaw, if not of a still more i'm
portant part of the body. In an adjoining
room is the surgeon, with his assistants,
spreading out his instruments and getting
| things in readines for the impending oper-
alton. He assigns to each his appropriate
| place. One administers chloroform; anoth-
| er takes charge of the limb; one screws
| down the tourniquet upon the principal
| artery, and another holds himself in read
| mess to follow the knife with his sponge
| The flaps are soon formed, the bone severed,
| the vessel tied, and the huge wound approx
| mated. The woman is pale and CHASTITY,
| the pulse hardly perceptible, the skin wet
with clammy perspiration, the voice husky,
| the sight indistinct. Some one whispers
| into the ear of the busy surgeon, ''The
| patient, I fear, is dying" Restoratives are
| administered, the pulse gradually rises, and
| after few hours of hard work and terrible
| anxiety reaction occurs. The poor woman
was only faint from the joint influence of
| the ansssthetic, shock and loss of blood. An
| assistant, a kind of sentinel, is placed as q
| guard over her, with instructions to watch
| her with the closest care, to send word the
| moment the slightest change for the worse is
perceived.
The surgeon goes about his business,
| visits other patients on the way, and at
| length, long after the usual hour, he sits
| down, worried and exhausted, to his cold
and comfortless meal, with mouth almost
as dry and a voice as husky his patients.
| He eats mechanically, exchanges hardly q
| word with any member of his family, and
| sullenly retires to his study, to prescribe for
his patients never, during all this time,
forgetting the poor mutilated object he left
| a few hours ago. He is about to lie down
| to get moments 1epose after the severe
| toll of the day, when suddenly he hears
a loud ring of the bell, and servant, breath
| less with excitement, begs his immediate
| presence at the sick chamber with the ex-
| clamation, "They think Mrs-is dying "
/ He hurries to the scene with rapid pace and
| anxious feeling. The stump is of crimson
color, and the patient lies in a profound
| the exhaustion is extreme; cordials and
| stimulants were at once brought into
requisition, the dressings are removed
| and the reeusant vessel is promptly Sc
/ cured.
| The vital current Gibbs and flows, reaction
1 is still more tardy than before, and it is
| not until a late hour of the night that the
surgeon. literally worn out in mind and
body, retires to his home in search of repose.
Does he sleep! He tries, but he cannot
close his eyes. His mind is with his patient;
he hears every footstep upon the pavement
under his window, and is in momentary
| expectation of the ringing of the night
bell He is disturbed by the widest fancies,
he sees the most terrible objects, and, as
he rises early in the morning to hasten to
his patients chamber, he feels that he has
been cheated of the rest of which he stood
| SO much in need. Is this picture over
| drawn! 1 have sat tor it a thousand times
| and there is no6 an educated conscien
tious surgeon that will not certify to its &C
curacy.